


Big Spark

by charivari



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Conjunx Endura, DomFirst Aid/SubSpringer, Erotic Electrostimulation, Established Relationship, First Aid modifying his spark resuscitation technique for interface, Hand & Finger Kink, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Self-Esteem Issues, Size Difference, Spark Sexual Interfacing, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-17 08:24:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4659561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charivari/pseuds/charivari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First Aid comes up with an inventive solution to being too small for Springer to spike him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Big Spark

It didn't bother Springer that he and First Aid weren't the most compatible interface wise. Not in terms of attraction but mechanics. Namely Springer's spike being too large for First Aid's smaller valve. There were ways around of it of course. Springer's fingers fit more easily, bringing to First Aid to overload just as effectively as his mouth. First Aid's own fingers, though smaller in size, were just as skilled in returning the favor. Springer didn't mind being spiked rather than doing the spiking either. First Aid's spike fit more easily into his valve than vice versa. As for the stimulation of his own spike, he could overload from the friction of rubbing against First Aid's wet folds.

So in Springer's processor, the fact he couldn't fit his spike into First Aid was no problem at all. It was First Aid who felt self-conscious about it, offering to have his valve modified. Springer had objected. It was an intensive procedure, one he didn't think was necessary for the improvement of their sex life. First Aid shouldn’t have to change himself in any shape or form for Springer’s sake. It taken a lot of coaxing for the medic to abandon the issue. At least verbally. Springer always noticed the twinge of disappointment in First Aid’s EM field when he rubbed his spike against his entrance, never burying himself any further.

“You feel so good Aid,” he would whisper encouragingly in First Aid’s audial. Not one word of it a lie, because it did feel good. For such a tiny valve the medic produced enough lubricant to leave Springer’s spike sopping wet as he thrust against it.

First Aid would almost always angle his hips, trying to maneuver Springer inside him. Springer would always counter the action, veering to one side, wanting to spare First Aid the futility of not fitting beyond his valve ring. But there was still that sense of disappointment, short-lived as Springer’s spike rubbing against his anterior node caused them both to overload.

Climax sated him, he would rest peacefully in Springer’s arms without a care in the world. But sooner or later the cycle would continue, First Aid’s insecurities flaring, Springer offering as much reassurance as he could.

Fortunately his medic was the resilient type, not content to suffer a problem when he could come up with an alternative.

“I want to try something,” he said, “It’s a little unorthodox but if you could hear me out…”

“Aid, I’m a Wrecker, I’m used to unorthodox. Not a lot that could surprise me ether.”

In this particular case he was wrong. Springer had done a lot of fragging in his life but nothing bearing any similarity to what First Aid proposed.

“You want to hook up my spike up to your spark?” Springer said incredulously.

“Yes,” First Aid said, “Using a similar method to spark resuscitation.”

“And that will make me overload?” Springer said, curiosity piqued.

“I believe so. The energy from my spark will concentrate an electrical current over your spike, almost like a sheath, which should trigger an overload.”

“And this is safe?”

“I’ve used the spark resuscitation technique in the past and encountered no side effects. Using my spark to make you overload shouldn't require as much energy as jump-starting a mech of Fort Max’s size.”

“What about my end?” Springer said, "It's not gonna fry my interface circuits or... blow my spike off."

First Aid assured him that was unlikely to happen. In spite of this he had added a safety precaution.

“I installed a dampener on the leads,” he said, “That will ensure my spark doesn’t concentrate too powerful a surge to your spike.”

“I see you’ve put some thought into this.”

“Well I thought, since you can’t spike me, not properly, this would be the best alternative,” First Aid said somewhat self-consciously, “Of course if it’s too weird or kinky, we don’t have to try it.”

Springer cupped the medic’s face in his big hands,

“Aid, you’re offering to make me overload with your spark. Your spark of all things. I’m not gonna say no.”

First Aid’s optics brightened with hope.

“Really?”

Springer grinned,

“Hook me up sweetspark.”

First Aid needed no more encouragement than that. He fetched the modified leads, with two clamps on either end, varying in size. The smaller two were for Springer’s spike, far less vicious-looking than the larger set which would be hooked up to First Aid’s spark casing. The middle of each lead was divided by a dampener.

Springer’s engine gave a low excited rev. The fact First Aid had spent time modifying the medical equipment into something for kinky spark-based interface was almost as arousing as the prospect of using it.

“Let’s do this,” he enthused, consumed by a sense of familiar Wrecker gung-ho.

First Aid shook his helm.

“I don’t want to rush,” he put down the leads and moved his hands to Springer’s interface array, “I want you to enjoy this.”

His fingers skirted along the seams. Springer allowed himself to be teased, reaching eagerly for First Aid’s array to do the same. The medic batted his hands away.

“No touching,” he said, “This is about me pleasuring you.”

Springer frowned.

“You don’t have to…”

First Aid’s pleading expression silenced him.

“You give so much Springer,” he murmured, “Always thinking of me. This time let me do the same for you.”

Springer could have argued the point. He _liked_ pleasuring First Aid. But he could see by the desperation in his visor that this meant a lot to the medic. 

“Okay,” he acquiesced with a smile, “You’re the boss.”

First Aid seemed to relax at the confirmation. His fingers returned to his array, stroking, probing. Springer felt his spike pressurize, lubricant trickling through the recesses of his valve, both longing for stimulation.

But he resisted the urge to retract his panel. First Aid was in charge so he could give the order.

The medic seemed to realize this.

“Open,” he said, voice adorably stern.

Springer complied eagerly. First Aid’s hands grasped him swiftly, one hand cupping the underside of his spike while the other hooked a single experimental finger inside his valve. Springer gave a groan of encouragement and the first finger was joined by three others, the fifth coming to press on his inflamed anterior node. 

First Aid’s knowledge of anatomy ensured he knew all the sensory hotspots, knew how to hit them with a confident ease that made the smaller width of his fingers obsolete. The medic was also ambidextrous, easily shifting his other hand over his spike as his fingers pleasured his valve.

“Frag,” Springer moaned, “Frag, Aid.”

The medic gave a pleasurable hum as the Wrecker ground against his ministrations. He kept his pace steady, almost too steady, it was becoming tortuous, the slow build. Only a few kliks in and Springer was burning for release. He wanted to overload around First Aid’s nimble little fingers.

He pitched his hips forward.

“Impatient,” First Aid teased, always more confident when he had Springer at his mercy, “That’s okay. You’re going to overload more than once by the time I’m through with you.”

Springer flashed him a wild grin. It excited him, First Aid talking like this, his tone as much as what he was promising. In control.

Without warning, First Aid slipped one finger from his valve, combining it with the one on his anterior node to roll and pinch the nub. The mix of pain-spiked pleasure sent Springer teetering over the edge, his calipers seized around the rest of First Aid’s wriggling fingers in overload.

Springer rested his helm happily on First Aid’s shoulder, enjoying the feeling of his fingers wedged in his sticky valve.

After a klik the medic withdrew.

“Good to go?” he thumbed the sticky smear of transfluid on the tip of Springer’s spike.

Springer’s engine gave a low rumble.

“Ready Chief,” he was a big mech, plenty of stamina.

Though how long he was going to last against First Aid’s experimental spark interface was anyone’s guess. He watched him retrieve the leads, allowing him to apply the smaller clip-like clamps to his spike. It was a pinching sensation, not overly pleasant but by no means unbearable.

“Uncomfortable?” First Aid asked.

“Nah,” Springer assured him, “Tickles.”

First Aid cupped his hand to Springer’s face and the Wrecker inhaled the strong scent of his valve fluid on the medic’s fingers.

“My big strong bot,” First Aid said lovingly.

Springer’s spark swelled at the words.

“Hook up sweetspark,” the words poured out of him with intensity, “Wanna feel you. Wanna feel you on my spike.”

First Aid answered by nuzzling his facemask against Springer’s mouth, giving Springer the chance to smash a kiss to it before the medic shifted backwards. He took the two larger clamps in his hands and applied them to his spark casing.

The initial sensation was an electric zap. One that didn’t fade but rather grew, rippling over the length of Springer’s spike, caressing, licking, devouring.

Springer’s optics rolled upwards.

It was unlike anything he had ever imagined or experienced. His hips bucked vainly of their own accord. It was like fragging a pocket of electricity, warm thrumming electricity.

But it was no ordinary electrical current. It was from lover’s spark. His lover milking him with his own spark energy.

Springer’s own spark hammered in its housing as he tried to focus on First Aid through the disorientating haze.

“How does it feel?” he heard him ask excitedly, “My spark embracing you?”

Static spluttered from Springer’s vocaliser as he attempted to answer.

“It… It… Oh… A-aid… Frrraa… Gaaaah!”

The current shot him over the precipice of overload, squeezing him of every drop of transfluid, offering no reprieve as it continued to roll over his spike.

Springer let out a sob.

“Do you want me to disconnect?” he heard a trace of anxiety in First Aid’s voice.

Springer shook his helm.

He wanted more, _needed_ it. His systems could take it, despite the lack of recovery time. First Aid shifted closer, thighs stained with transfluid from Springer’s overload. Springer blindly felt his servo on the slickened rim of his valve.

“Primus Springer, you’re so wet.”

Springer was dimly aware of his wet thighs, the puddle in between his knees.

He whimpered in response, a sound that seemed strange to his audials. He wasn’t one to whimper. But in his current state it was all he could manage. A whimper as First Aid’s spark energy continued to thrum over his spike, a whimper as First Aid’s fingers gently probed his valve.

“I’m going to spike you. Is that okay?”

Springer gave a ragged nod.   

He heard the _snkt_ of a panel, felt the head of First Aid’s spike nudging against the folds of his valve. The medic pushed in with a moan. He had barely began to thrust as the spark energy bought Springer to another overload.

He clutched First Aid as he rode it, sobbing into the crook of his neck.

The same as before there was no pause. Springer was caught in exquisite agony as the current lapped over him relentlessly, milking transfluid in slow spurts.

First Aid had stilled inside him. Uncertainty and desire battled in his EM field. Springer wrestled with his vocaliser, thighs canting weakly as he hugged the medic for dear life.

“O-one m-muh-more A-aid,” he managed, “F-fill _me_.”

First Aid’s helm tilted up, visor bright, facemask seeking Springer’s mouth. Springer obliged clumsily, lips slamming against the plate, feeling the grind of First Aid’s hips, the head of his little spike angled in such a way to brush a cluster of nodes.

Springer howled into his shoulder, the current over his spike intensifying ever so slightly from First Aid taking his pleasure. It soon become too much for Springer to bear, the combined stimulation spike and valve produced an overload of far greater intensity than its predecessors, systems straining from the immensity of the charge powering through his frame.

Amidst the roar of his fans, the shudder of his tanks, the seismic pulse of his spark in its housing, there was First Aid, the feel of him in the throes of his own overload, small warm spurts of transfluid inside his valve as they rattled together, Springer on the brink of shutdown.

He somehow managed to stay conscious, groping for the clamps in an effort to stay that way. First Aid was faster, disconnecting them. The thrum over Springer’s overworked spike evaporated, leaving him relieved as well as bereft. With his remaining strength he pressed his cheek against First Aid’s chestplate, craving to be close to the spark within.

He felt First Aid’s hand on his helm, tracing over the sharp angles.

“Not bad for a tiny medic’s spark,” he said.

“Big things, small packages,” Springer murmured fondly, “Cute red bot, enormous fragging spark. Worn me out like no mech’s ever done before.”

“Then you should recharge,” the smile was audible in First Aid’s voice, “Doctor’s orders.”

Springer’s mouth curved lazily against his conjunx’s chestplate,

“Only if you and your big spark recharge with me.”

First Aid chuckled, a warm blissful sound to Springer’s audials.

“ _We_ would be delighted,” he let out a sigh, “Though I should clean up first, otherwise we’re going to wake up rather sticky. I’ve never seen so much transfluid.”

“Consider it a testament to your genius,” Springer rolled on his back, First Aid falling top of him, “Sticky I can deal with. Just means we’ll have to long, long shower later, getting into each other’s seams, all those hard to reach places…”

First Aid gave a contented hum,

“Now who’s the genius?”


End file.
